


Hands that Can Heal

by arrows_and_fairytales



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Nanda Parbat Marriage Fic, Speculation, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrows_and_fairytales/pseuds/arrows_and_fairytales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: The married life with the League and Oliver being all powerful and possessive and stuff because Felicity is a literal ball of sunshine that everyone is attracted to. But there's also angst because she still keeps in touch with Ray and Oliver is having none of that because she's HIS wife. Bonus pts for smut or hot make out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Strip Me, What Would You Find

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when I posted a wedding speculation drabble of a forced LoA marriage of Oliver and Felicity. And well. . . . you all wanted more. So here you go! Enjoy!

“Come here.”

The small bedroom was warmly lit with tall lanterns and her glittering presence which hadn’t been dimmed in this haven of death. A haven he was slowly trying to mold into one of merciful justice, through a path that was lit by her unyielding faith in him. He would have surely broken by the third or fourth day if he didn’t have her here waiting for him, guiding him, loving him.

When the toes of his boots came to rest against her bare feet, he stilled his motions and let her take over.

She started with the wide leather belt removing it with a deft practice. Just as quickly his quiver was removed, placed with a reverence on the small table beside them.  She ran her hands beneath the thick leather jacket, letting them glide over his shoulders--before guiding the heavy material off of him.

Taking a step back, she folded it with the same care she had shown his quiver, placing it on the table as well. When she returned to stand in front of him, Felicity allowed the tips of her toes to rest on the edge of his boots--bringing them that much closer together.

Ducking her head, she focused on unstrapping his gloves. Those were tossed carelessly in the direction of the table as her focus was instead on pulling his hands up towards her lips. She placed the softest of kisses on each bruise that was beginning to blossom on his knuckles. Saved for last in her ministrations was his thumb and forefinger--each rubbed raw with countless times they had drawn back a bow string. Flipping his hand, she began methodically leaving a trail of kisses--no different than the others--from the tip of his finger to his palm. When she was done, she lowered his hand, giving it a tight squeeze--before letting it fall to his side.

Felicity kneeled, her fingers immediately going to the laces of his boots. As she undid knots and loosened the laces, he finally took a moment to glance down at her. Gone was the designer wardrobe that had come as she transitioned into the role of executive assistant and later vice president of a fortune 500 company, in its place was soft linen and jeans she must have snuck in. She was softened--something he had never expected was possible when he had first arrived here to rescue the devil himself.

Suddenly she was was looking up at him as her hands tugged the boots from his feet. It was always her eyes that he loved more than anything else. More than her brain. More than her positivity. And certainly more than her looks. Because in her eyes he saw his happy story, his oasis, and God help him, he wanted to spend an eternity there.

Slowly she rose to her feet, her eyes focused on the arrow medallion that hung around his neck. The marker of his weapon. Of his power. Of his new identity.

_al-Saheem._

Taking it into her palm, she spoke softly--almost to herself, “This is not who you are, Oliver. This. This is your mask. Just like the one Barry gave you.”

Within seconds it was removed, laying atop his jacket and quiver. Her hands around his neck once again, tugging the long thin chain out from underneath his t-shirt. Gently, she let it fall against his chest, the small band that hung from it, coming to rest parallel to his heart. It was a crude little thing, fashioned from what she could salvage from the ancient computers that were still left in their new home. She had been adamant that even though they had been forced into this new step of their partnership that it would be done right. And so it was a ring--a wedding band--that was tucked beneath all his layers, to remind him of who he was returning to. Who he was underneath everything.

“This is who you are. Just Oliver. The man. The man I married.” As she spoke she let her eyes meet his once again, and for what seemed like an eternity they lost themselves in the small moment of peace that this ritual allowed them.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to survive. 


	2. Words of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohmypreciousgirl asked: I read we can request things in the 'Nanda Parba' Olicity married universe, so here you go: the first time Felicity called Oliver her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be one of the most vivid verse's to write in. It's almost like I go into a trance. (plus it helps that they're all one-shots). Hope you all enjoy!

“Let me see him.”

The stone floor was cold beneath her feet, but her fiery anger and frustration burned away any feelings of chill. She had slammed open several doors on her path to get to him--not caring how dramatic she must have looked as she pushed open set after set of ornate doors. The two soldiers that stood guard at the door remained stone face--her request falling on deaf ears. It seemed that no matter what title she had been given since that rushed ceremony, these soldier lived by a code--one in which orders were only followed when they came from the lips of al-Saheem.

The asshole who was currently lying prone--unable to give orders--because he, once again, had failed to listen to her. Of all of Oliver’s vices, his stubbornness was going to be the one to get him killed; it had already.

Felicity took a deep breath before she spoke again. It seemed her loud voice had been one of the many things she had left behind in Starling City. In it’s place was a soft voice of steel, more frigid than the mountains where this whole spiral had begun. Where a blade of prophecy had been thrown through his gut, putting into motion events that this rag tag team attempting to save city drowning in darkness could have never predicted.

“Open the doors. Let me see my husband.”

And as if she had spoken some mystical incantation the soldiers turned to the door and opened them, allowing her to pass without impediment.

The room is no different than any other in this new home of theirs. The lanterns cast shadows on his body, highlighting his grimace as he tries to sit up.

“What were you thinking, Oliver?” The anger and irritation had been left at the door, leaving only a tired concern over this man who had so much concern for others, but none for himself.

“Felicity.” He groaned, falling back against the cot once the remaining soldiers had cleared the room.

“Don’t. You went in without back-up. Without trained back-up. Sure, you had some of the league with you. But they still don’t know you, Oliver. The way you think. The way you shift a plan a hundred and eighty degrees just because your gut tells you to. So you can’t react the way you used to because it’s going to get you killed. And Oliver, you may be good at a lot of things, but you are not immortal.”

He was too exhausted to remind her that there was a bath on the other end of the property that contradicted her statement. Instead, he focused on her warm hand lazily brushing across his forehead.

The silence was comforting, a peaceful haven after the gunfire and shouts he had narrowly escaped from. However something was prodding at his mind, that one little word that he had heard her utter as she demanded to be let in.

“You call me your husband.” His voice was soft, laying the fact before her without pretense. It was for her to decide if she wanted to acknowledged it or not.

Her hand stilled on his forehead and her eyes found his. Although he spent most of his waking moments embroiled in a fierce guilt for allowing her to come with him, it was moments like these that he was glad for the change this place had brought them. The bare honesty with each other had crashed over them like a cool wave, allowing them to exist without barriers, without layers, without masks.

“Mmhmm. Kinda gives new meaning to the whole ‘you’re my partner’ thing, doesn’t it?” She said with a small grin.

Even though the pain still throbbed, he managed a smile in return, “Yeah. I think it makes it better.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me prompt requests on Tumblr - arrows-and-fairytales.tumblr.com


	3. A Fountain of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous033 asked: one of the League members gets lippy with Felicity and Oliver gets growly because “I don’t care if she’s not the head, she’s my wife and you will respect her"

League members filed past her, most giving her a small bow or nod, but she only had eyes for the man standing at the far end of the room, breathing heavily from the words that had torn from his throat minutes before.

_She is my wife and you will respect her!_

The soft click of the doors shutting set her in motion towards him. Although she knew he could hear her approach, he didn’t turn--something she took advantage of as she slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back.

“You know you didn’t have to do that. It’s no different than the rumors at QC when I was your assistant. I know they don’t want me here,” She sighed. “To them I don’t belong here.”

Suddenly their positions changed as Felicity found herself pressed against Oliver’s front. He remained silent as he slid off the strap of her tank top--just had he had done that night almost a month ago. With the lightest of touch he traced her tattoo, over and over, before replacing his finger with his lips.

Felicity leaned her head forward as he continued his ministrations, vaguely noticing the evening out of his breath. She knew he was fascinated by the mark on her skin-even though he had drawn it himself--it always seemed to inspire a sense of wonder and peace in his manner. Often she could feel his fingers tracing it as she fell asleep. It seemed that she was the source of his peace, an abundant fountain of relaxation that he wanted to drown himself in. But for all his attention on the tattoo, he never once told her what it meant. She supposed she could have searched for it--scoured the internet for the meaning--however her hand always stilled before she could even begin. Felicity wanted Oliver to tell her, to explain the significance, the draw, and why Maseo had simply given his old friend a look yet hadn’t spoken a word.

“That is why. Why I had to do what I did.” His quiet words fanned out across her skin, barely reaching her ears. With one final kiss in the center of the tattoo, he pulled back, tracing it idly with his finger. “If I didn’t, then this would be meaningless.”

Felicity held her breath as he finally revealed the meaning, his voice even softer than before.

_Beloved. Wife. Woman with Power._

But his last words--a tacked on definition from a conversation so long ago--tumbled from his lips as a low growl, and had her spinning in his arms, crashing her lips to his.

“My equal.”


	4. She Moves Like a Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumplingnooona asked: Gabby i have a smutty prompt for Hands That Can Heal in Nanda Parbat - Oliver hissing at Felicity ¨I am Al-Saheem, heir to the demon and you will obey!¨ in bed. 8B
> 
> Probably not what you were expecting (considering I turned the whole prompt on it’s head) and there’s no smut (sorry, people). Also, I’m sorry this is so short, but I wasn’t sure where to expand on it or even if this particular one-shot should be fleshed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short everyone, but I wasn't sure what part to flesh out or if I should just keep it the way it is.

“Let him go.”

Her cold words fell on deaf ears as the once brilliant jewel of her childhood dreams continued his tirade--waving his position in the organization that had tortured the man he held in his grasp. Oliver. She cursed whatever fate had woven their stories in such a gruesome way: her father responsible for turning him into a killer.

For the briefest of seconds she allowed her eyes to flicker around the room. The league members that hadn’t been killed or knocked unconscious were bound by faceless soldiers in government-issued blackness; and in that moment she thought of Nyssa. Nyssa, who walked as if she owned the earth around her, proudly proclaiming herself “Heir to the Demon” knowing with absolute certainty the power her words wielded. Pulling the bow tighter, she channeled that--all that power, majesty, and ferocity-- and spoke words that were more deadly than any blade.

“I am al-Malika, wife of the Demon, and you will obey my command!”

Unbeknownst to Felicity as the words that felt at once so alien and so comforting on her tongue echoed from the stone walls, the setting sun burst through the large arches, casting her whole body in flames. With bow drawn, she was the image of the goddess.

Despite the ruthlessness of her words, her father remained undeterred. And although it seemed like an ocean was roaring in her ears, she heard the soft click of the bullet sliding into the chamber.Breath had barely filled her lungs, before her arms were in motion, moving with a speed and grace she had never imagined possible.

One.

Two.

Three.

It wasn’t until she regained her bearings that she saw the three arrows eerily familiar pattern in his chest as he collapsed with an agonizing slowness.

_There was no choice to make._

 

 


	5. The Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I had never posted the original marriage drabble on here, so here you go! Hope you all enjoy!

She could feel the eyes burning into her body, in her skull. God! Of all times Oliver decided to think his actions through! They needed to do something and fast, or she was going to have a blade to her throat, or even worse, she’d be tossed out faster than you could say that fancy new name of his.

“Kiss me”

Felicity watched his eyes flicker to his lips, but then hold firm on her own. “No. I can’t ask you to do this, Felicity.”

Was the situation full of suck? Of course. But how was this any different from making her bait countless times, not the least of which include being taken by Slade. As always, they had to deal with the card they had been dealt. It was just the two of them, for crying out loud. This was all they had.

“Damnit, Oliver! You. Need. To. Kiss. Me.” As Felicity looked into his eyes though, she could see his continued resistance. This was them being force fed the dream they both wanted under, but as a mutilated and dangerous mess. This was them stepping head first into an abyss that they could never return from. This was marraige.

Tightening her jaw, she ground out her final plea, “Do. It.”

Those two words sparked a fire, and before she could even take another breath, he was hurtling forward—slamming his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. In this strange new place, fire caught fast. Danger sprang up faster. And that which once was bad didn’t seem so awful anymore.

For it was with lips she had only felt once pressed against hers and a broken arm curled around her waist, that she became the wife of the new Ra’s Al Ghul.

_al-Malika._


End file.
